The Value of Training

Last weekend, Nora Jane learned what all weekend warriors, who have come before her, have learned: training is important.

Standing at the start line of the Mazama 5k, she was nervous, excited, and ready to release the beast.  

Eager to be on the front line, among the elite, she kept inching forward.  When I suggested she "hold back a bit," to avoid getting trampled, she just looked at me like I had never run a race before and said, "Mom!  At school I always line up in the front! And last week I came in second!  

While I wanted to say that you only race against seven other third graders, of course you line up at the front.  You all do!  I did not.  Instead, I held her hand and said, "just a little longer, just until the kids' race is over."  The race that I, initially, suggested Nora run.  The race that Nora simply would not do.  

"Mom, I've already run lots of 1k's.  I want to run the big race.  With you.  I can do it!"  

And there was no changing her mind.  

As race day approached, however, I suggested she might want to try training a bit.  

"Mom, I don't need to.  I know I can do it." 

"I'm sure you can honey, but three miles is a pretty long way." 

Finally, a week before the race, she gave in.  And while  I prepared dinner and set the table, she set out to run a few laps around our block while her coach followed along on his bike.  After the first lap, she came running inside to announce that was easy!  We're going to do another lap!  And back out the door she went.  

The end of the second lap, however, looked, altogether, different.  Standing in the doorway, huffing and puffing, chest heaving, she said, "Mom, my knee hurts!"  

Ugh, I thought.  This race is NOT going to go well.

"Well, honey, you still have time to practice.  And, remember, you can always opt for the 1k."  She just looked at me like I suggested she go and watch Dora.  

So, naturally, when the gun went off, she took off like a rocket.  Well, a rocket in the midst of a very crowded solar system.  She jockeyed for position, trying her best to get to the front of the pack.  A place I've always tried to avoid at the start of races.  You can get run over up there.  But Nora was determined.  She was infallible. She was completely and totally inexperienced.  

Ponytail swinging, she ventured off the trail and onto the grass to secure a better position.  She leaned into the first hill and I looked at Dave and thought, "she's going to smoke us!"  I was so proud!  She's a natural!  Look at her go!  Watching her feet barely hit the ground, I thought we have the next Pre on our hands!  I seriously get SO carried away.  

And then, we hit the half-way mark and Nora said, "how much farther?"  

We just looked at each other and thought, oh boy! 

One mile is not a very long way, but it can feel like forever when you're tired.  And Nora was tired.  Her ponytail, now still, hung straight down her back.  The feet, that had just moments before seemed to fly through the air, were now scuffling through the dirt, too heavy to lift.  And she got passed.  And passed and passed and passed.  

I tried to help her, to encourage her.  I took her hand and pulled her along jogged with her.  I sang the Geoduck song to her.  I said "almost there" way too many times to be true.  Dave just jogged alongside her.  Stopping when she stopped, starting when she started.  The man has the patience of Job!  Nora just kept going, jogging/walking all the way to the finish line.  

When we got close enough to actually see the finish line, she, somehow, found the energy to sprint to the end leaving Dave and I stunned and annoyed.  For now, child-less, we had to cross the line like a bunch of losers who couldn't even keep up with the kids!  

It was the slowest 5k I have ever run.  And running past those cheering fans, (because that's what you do at fun runs, you cheer --for everyone-- even the slow ones who probably should have just stayed home and slept in) felt humiliating. 

While Dave walked over to the water table, I headed for the brownies.  What the heck, I may not have burned enough calories to compensate for eating even one of these babies, but I didn't care.  It was over.  I ate another.  

As we walked over to the pancake breakfast, I asked Nora if she had fun.  She just shrugged and said, "I don't know."  When the lady selling the breakfast tickets asked her, "how'd you do?"  She, again, responded "I don't know."  Not wanting her to feel bad about her efforts, I leaned in and said, "she did great!  She just finished her first 5k."  And, at that moment, I really was proud of her.  She hadn't trained,  she ran entirely on faith, hope, and dreams.  But, who hasn't done this from time to time? And she stuck it out, without one single complaint.  

After a trip to the rodeo, a stop in Winthrop to try on silly hats, 

As you can see, Minnie Pearl is alive and well
and living in Winthrop :)

and a healthy dose of playtime  with all the other kids at the lodge, she was in much better spirits.  At dinner later that night, I, again, asked her if she had fun.  Her response was difficult to hear; the restaurant was crowded and her head was resting on the table next to her half-eaten plate of food.  She was minutes from falling asleep.  "I guess.  It was hard."

The next night, however, as she crawled into bed with me, she said, "Mom, I think I need a training plan."  So she got out her sketch book, drew out a month's worth of days and began to fill in dates when she has time to run.  

"I still think I'm more of a sprinter, but maybe I can go farther.  If I practice."

Good plan kid.  

Keep on keeping on--

S-